“You’re one of us now.”
7
As a trained vet, my life revolved around science. Although I believed there were many things as yet undiscovered about our world, I’d always taken comfort in the biological rules that must be obeyed. One of those rules dictated that however weird the animal, most were born, lived, and died in a single, set form. Even those that changed—like insects—did not morph at will. Those that had amorphous shapes, such as the octopus, lacked a bony skeleton. So while I could grasp the discovery of a new species of human—I still cheered for those that searched for bigfoot—my mind struggled to cope with a creature that spent only part of its time looking like me.
The thought that I could be infected with a virus that changed me on a genetic level didn’t mesh with my idea of what was possible. Any minute now, I’ll wake up and find Keen breathing on my face. That would give anyone nightmares.
My brain threatened to teeter into madness. So I did the only thing I could: I shelved my automatic reaction, pushed it to the back of my mind, and tried to listen as Peter talked about the wulfan. It turned out that Peter’s family was more extensive than I’d known, but they just hadn’t made it this far north. There was a reason for that: they didn’t like him much.
Apparently, the feeling was mutual.
The family that—whelped?—Chloe lived in Texas, an apparent stronghold of their kind.
“So you were born wulfan,” I stated for clarity. Clarity, right. Cling to that.
“Chloe and I come from a long line of pureblood wulfan,” Peter said, wincing as I cleaned a deep slice on his arm.
“Are there more around here?”
Peter hesitated. “There are things you should know.” He glanced at Chloe. “Chloe wanted to tell you as soon as you’d been bitten, but Dillon wanted us to wait to see if the bite had transferred the virus. Dillon is . . . difficult.”
“He’s one scary dude,” I said. “But he didn’t mean to bite me, I know that. He lunged for Keen and I got in the way.”
“Wulfan have not lived for centuries with humans by being stupid,” Peter said with heat in his voice. “Dillon shouldn’t have been hunting, so we were trying to stop him. He didn’t smell you in time to avoid you.”
“I showered that morning,” I said automatically. I’d always used humor as a shield, why stop now?
Peter’s brows twitched, but he didn’t smile. “The virus is only active the night of the full moon. If he’d bitten you any other time, it would have been painful, but harmless. Dillon was out of control that night”—his gaze shifted to Chloe—“and he is only getting worse.”
Chloe made a small sound of denial, but when I glanced at her, she looked away.
“Where did you meet Dillon?” I asked. “In Texas?”
“We went to high school together.” She would not meet my eyes, as though she was embarrassed. “Dillon was human then. We were good friends but . . . could never be anything more.”
Are wulfan racists? I looked to Peter, questions in my eyes.
“Wulfan usually only mate with wulfan, and the pull between mates is very strong. But sometimes wulfan and humans mate. The virus can only be spread during the full moon. And any body fluid can transfer it.” Peter looked away. “There isn’t enough willpower in the world to stop an infection between mates on a full moon.”
“Okay.” But I was missing something. Would someone voluntarily become a wulf? Man, relationships are complicated enough without this. But if love really can conquer all? “If the human agrees to the change, is that a bad thing?”
By the expression on Peter’s face, I wasn’t going to like the answer. “Humans that are turned by the virus are called wulfleng.” Peter studied his hands, folded on the table. “When you’re born with the wulf inside you, the two of you grow together in balance. Our children go to the same schools as humans, with them never the wiser. That’s the level of control we achieve at a young age.” He hesitated, as though searching for words. “When an adult human is bitten, the outcome is uncertain.”
My heart pounded, and I tossed the rag into the bloody water. I didn’t think cleaning painful wounds was a good combination with this conversation.
“If a human only gets a small amount of the virus, they can live a relatively normal life. They are changed, though, becoming restless, moody, and more prone to violence, but it’s liveable. We’d hoped, at first, that you fell into that category.” Peter’s lips pressed together in a grim line. “When the animals started acting weird around you, it seemed likely you’d got a healthy dose of it. Animals are always the first to sense the wulf. Dillon wished to push the issue, to test you. The response you had to Dillon challenging your territory proves the virus has a firm grip.”
“Maybe I’m a territorial kind of guy,” I said, but I didn’t believe it any more than they did. I remembered the speed of my reaction, the rage. I’d never felt like that before. “Does that mean I’ll change into one of you?” I liked how steady my voice was, as though we were discussing the latest sports scores over a beer.
“Maybe.” Peter sighed. “Some wulfleng never achieve transformation, but the wulf prowls within them. Without the ability to shift, it fights to be free in other ways, making them moody and aggressive.” He hesitated but finally met my eyes. “Some go mad.”
My head spun and my stomach churned. Not flu sick, but mortally upset kind of sick. The animals already sensed something was wrong with me. Was that a sign I would lose my mind?
“That doesn’t have to happen to you. Until the next full moon, we won’t know if you can shift. So far, we’ve seen signs of the wulf within, so we know you’re infected. But that’s all.”
I took
